Michael Moorcock Quotes

Violent men believe only in such concepts as 'weakness' and 'cowardice'. They are so deeply cynical , so rooted in their own insane beliefs, that they cannot even begin to grasp the concept of 'pacifism'.

Again this is an old question, a bit trite from being asked too often, maybe, but how much of what we believe is true and how much is what we wish were true.

He existed in all the many dimensions of the multiverse. Yet he, in common with all others, was bound by the dimension of Time. He had cast off the chains of space but was tied, as perhaps all denizens of the multiverse would always be, by the imperturbable prowl of Time, which brooked no halt, which condoned no tampering with its movement, whether to slow it or to speed it.
Time, the changer, could not be changed. Space, perhaps, the material environment, could be conquered. Time, never.

It becomes so easy to believe what one wishes to believe," Jhary said wearily. "So easy.

And thank you, also, for the joke."
"The joke?"
"Why truly—the best joke is but a simple statement of truth."…
He mounted, flapped the reins, and, as the gray gelding broke into a trot he said to himself: "A joke indeed, but it is a pity that men do not laugh at it more often.

And then he pursed his lips in disgust. “Doubtless that was the result of supernatural interference with our brains! How I hate the supernatural!”

This is an Age of Gods, I am afraid, Master Corum. There are many, big and small, and they crowd the universe. Once it was not so. Sometimes, I suspect, the universe manages with none at all!

It’s what they call a “theocracy”—priest-ridden in the extreme, full of dark superstitions and darker myths and legends, where all gods and demons are honoured, doubtless to be on the safe side. The people are cruel, ignorant, dirty and proud—they look down their noses at all other races.

By acting as they would act, we become what they are. And if we are what they are, then there is little point in resisting them!

Even ruin could not make it picturesque. The streets were awash with weather-stained postcards, bedraggled and muddy King Arthur tea-towels, broken plastic Holy Grails, Excaliburs carved from chalk, tiny Round Tables to hang on the wall, and polystyrene crowns. In the reign of one Elizabeth the ideal had reached perfection and, in the reign of another, it had achieved its ultimate degradation.

I appreciate this quest for national identity," she said, "but it does seem that most traditions were dropped for the good reason that they were revoltingly cruel and stupid.

I am dead," said Corum, "and would be grateful if you would allow me to be dead in peace.

In other words, the listener’s own picture was painted in the shining coulours St Odhran provided. By seeing what they wished, they also saw what he wished them to see. “They are the Orchestra,” he had told me earlier, “and I am merely the Conductor.”

The poor man has sacrificed himself for others, but he could not help resenting them from time to time.

Such speculation leads us nowhere and everywhere, but it makes no difference to our understanding of our immediate problems.